Imprisoned
by hepster
Summary: Claire's been sent to Rockfort, but there is no T-Virus outbreak. She tries to get off the island, with the help of Steve and the rest of her inmates. StevexClaire Rated M for Language and one serious homosexual relashionship. As in, it's not crack. RxR


**IMPRISONED**

* * *

**Chapter One: A Warm Welcome**

* * *

Claire's head hurt. A lot. That was her first thought when she finally woke up. Her gloved hand slowly made its way up to her temple, wincing as she felt a nasty bump on her left side. She was extremely sore for some reason and for the life of her, she couldn't remember why. Blue eyes fluttered open, barely making out the walls that surrounded her, the small light that was coming from somewhere unseen. Where was she anyways? The last thing that she could clearly remember was running from the helicopter in the Umbrella's Paris facility, barely managing to escape, being surrounded by security, the explosion, the-

"_Oh shit, I got captured."_

She immediately stood up, getting slightly dizzy from lying down for so long. Claire was finally able to get a decent look around. The walls were grey and slightly moldy, and there was a row of bars that were directly in front of her, which Claire leaned against for support. There was a rather large desk that was outside of the decent sized cell she was in, scattered with papers, files, and a small computer. The small light she had seen before was coming from an overhead-hanging lamp that was placed above the desk area. She noticed a door to her right and another one that was on the back wall that the desk was at, a couple of chairs that were placed randomly around the room, nothing of particular interest.

Claire punched at the bars, leaning her back against them, sliding down to the floor as she clutched her bleeding knuckles. The brunette sat in silence, a wave of melancholy filling her up inside as she thought about how she has failed. She had been weak enough to get captured, weak enough to be imprisoned by the evil pharmaceutical company. Claire knew she had to be strong, needed to be able to find a way out of the situation. As she got back to her feet, there was the sound of a doorknob turning, and footsteps entering the room.

"So, you're finally awake."

She turned around to face the voice, and was face-to-face with a man, somewhere around 30, with jet-black hair and a bushy mustache to match. His skin was very tan; the white t-shirt he was wearing made it look even darker, accompanied with a pair of green work pants and laced up brown boots. He carried a gun in hand, 9mm, and the same one that he had used to force Claire into surrender. This was the man that had apprehended her; cost her the freedom she once had.

He made his way behind the desk, picking up one of the many files and flipping through a few pages in it. She caught a small glimpse of her name on one of the sheets a of parchment and assumed that the file he was holding was her own.

"Claire Redfield, imprisoned for infiltrating Umbrella's Paris Lab Facility. Currently awaiting entry into the computer database and full-body physical. Well, Ms. Redfield, my name's Rodrigo Juan Raval, your personal tormentor." He spoke the words as if he had known her for his entire life, a sign to Claire that he was an arrogant, cocky bastard. Rodrigo had gotten back up, casually strolling towards her cell, taking out a pair of keys and handcuffs. She backed away from the bars as he unlocked the door, turning around so that he could secure her hands around her back. Claire knew there was no use trying to resist physically; he had a gun.

Rodrigo led her towards the backdoor, the circulation in her wrists becoming increasingly slowed due to his iron grip. He kicked the door open, bright, blinding lights turning on automatically. Claire winced slightly, and then opened her eyes fully. White, every damn thing was just…white. The walls, ceiling, even the floor was the same sterile color. The only exception was the gleaming silver of the countertops and the exam table, which looked more like a morgue table than one used for physicals. Just what kind of hell was this?

"Undress."

Claire spun her head around, meeting his stern gaze.

"W-what?" she asked, unsure whether he was being serious or not.

"You heard me, undress. _Now_."

"No way! What are you trying to pull on me?" Claire was suddenly face first on the ground, her cheek being squished painfully against the ground. Rodrigo was sitting on top off her, his pistol on the back on her head. His voice was in her ear, speaking angrily and through clenched teeth.

"Now listen here you little bitch! We can do this the easy way or the hard way. And trust me, you do _not_ want to know what the hard way is. So, I'll say it again; undress. NOW."

He got off of her slowly, pulling the gun back from her head. Claire got up rather quickly, rubbing her sore face as she did. Rodrigo wasn't playing around here and by the tone he was using that whatever the hard way was wouldn't be very enjoyable in the least. Reluctantly, she removed her belt, fumbling around to get it out of the loops in her jeans. Her hands were shaking violently; this was so humiliating. Claire finally got it off, letting it drop to the floor. She could feel Rodrigo's eyes watching her as she stripped.

"Do you _mind?"_

Rodrigo rolled his eyes, turning around to face the opposite corner that she was undressing in. Claire proceeded to take off her jeans, then the rest of her clothing, with the exception of her undergarments. A chill went through her while she attempted to cover up her barely covered private regions. Despite the situation, Claire still felt embarrassed with being naked in the same room as a man, even if he was a complete dick. There was a rustle of paper that came from behind her that she recognized as one of those awful hospital gowns that they made you wear.

"Be sure to put that on; the doctor will be in to see you shortly. And don't think about trying anything funny, got it?" Those were the last words of Rodrigo before the door slammed shut and Claire was finally left alone.

She turned around and did, in fact, see a paper gown laid out for her on the examination table. She hastily put her arms through the sleeves and tied up the string that feebly held the whole thing together. She sat upon the small examination table, the paper lining crinkling rather obnoxiously, just as her hospital gown did as she moved.

"_At least it's better than being naked,"_ Claire thought to herself.

The buzz of fluorescent lighting overhead was the only sound that could be heard by the teen, a sound that was soon becoming a complete agitation to her. She let out aloud groan as she brought her knees down to her chest and laid her forehead down upon it. There was a ticking sound coming from somewhere, probably a clock that she didn't care to look around for. It was probably white, like everything else. Time passed slowly; it seemed as if an eternity had passed sine Claire sat down upon the examination table.

"_Where did I go wrong?"_ Claire contemplated. _"Everything had been going great until I ran into that guy."_ That guy, of course, was referring to Rodrigo. She practically snarled just thinking about that asshole. She had never hated a man as much as she hated that man, so full of himself. Anyone who worked for Umbrella was bound to be that way though, no doubt it explained why Wesker was the way he was according to Chris.

_CHRIS._

He was going to be worried sick. Would he though? He probably still thought that she was away at the University, studying her little heart out. God, she missed him. Who knew when, or if, she would ever see him again? She hadn't spent time with him in months and had only gotten a brief phone call from him after the incident at the SpencerMansion. Being a college student at the time, Claire had been in her dorm studying for an upcoming English mid-term that was the following day. Her roommate was out at her sorority party, which was perfecting fine with the teenager, seeing that they never got along great anyways. Deeply entranced by her lecture notes, she had been startled out of her trance by the landline in her room. Immediately, she felt the tension from the other end as she picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Claire, listen to me very carefully." Her brother answered.

"What happened, Chris?"

"Look, I don't have much time to explain everything. Just make sure you're alone."

"Well then tell me what's going on. I don't like how this is going…"

He was silent for a brief moment before he took a deep breath and began to explain. "Something…happened on the last mission we had. I don't exactly know where to start…. we were on a mission…well Bravo team was going to investigate the murders."

She had heard about the killings from her University's newspaper; the victims had apparently been mauled and eaten by some unknown wild animal. So far, there had been 12 victims of the Arklay Mountains' "Cannibal Killer". For Bravo Team to have to go investigate it must have mean that the R.P.D. (or rather Chief Irons) must have been desperate. The S.T.A.R.S. members were all very nice people, especially the 2 girls of the group. They always got along great whenever Claire would visit Chris on the job.

"Chris, how are Jill and Rebecca doing?"

"They're fine, more or less. Fortunately, they were one of the lucky ones." He paused for a brief moment. " W-we lost almost everyone, Claire. Only Barry, Brad, the girls, and myself are still…. still alive."

She let out a horrified cry, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "How did th-they die?"

"They had a run in…with the murderers."

"MURDERERS? You mean there was more than one?"

"Definitely more than one. I don't think you'd believe me…if I told you what they were."

"What do you mean? What else could they be?"

The older Redfield stopped again, obviously contemplating whether to tell his sister the awful truth behind his comrades' deaths.

"Chris, please…. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

He breathed in deeply, making Claire more anxious than ever. " They weren't…ALIVE, Claire! Zombies, walking undead, whatever you wanna call them, just like in the damn movies." Her frantically beating heart stopped instantaneously. Surely he couldn't be serious, could he? There was no way it could be possible! Chris had to be joking, but from the solemn tone he was using, Claire didn't really think he was. She didn't even want to consider the possibility that he could be insane. She sat there for a long time, the only sound she could her was her older brother's breath from the receiver.

"Claire?" He whispered.

"Yeah Chris?"

"Please. I'm not crazy. I know what I saw. My-our friends are dead because of those THINGS." The desperate sound of his voice made Claire lose all doubts that she had about him lying, no matter how unbelievable it seemed.

"Ok, just…tell me what happened."

He let out a sigh of relief, clearly happy to hear that his baby sister was going to hear him out. Chris proceeded to tell her of his tale through the Spencer mansion, about the zombies that roamed its' halls and threatened his fellow S.T.A.R.S.'s members lives, and about the strange B.O.W.s that lurked around every dark corner. Chris almost came to the point of tears at one point, recalling the horrible images of his friends' bodies and sacrifices, while Claire sobbed quietly to herself. It was all so terrible and unfair; they were-had been, good people. But the worst thing of all was hearing about Wesker's betrayal. Even though the brunette had never really trusted him, she never could have thought he would be enough of a sick bastard to sell out the team he commanded and be responsible for their deaths.

She did not know how long she talked on the phone with Chris, only that each moment had been melancholic and sorrowful. He would stop every few minutes to pack some more things into his bag. Apparently, he was staying in a motel outside of Raccoon City. The surviving S.T.A.R.S. members had tried going to the press to try and expose the corruption in the RPD and the truth of the Arklay murders, but they were shot down and labeled to be drunkards. They were mocked and hated by the citizens of the mountain town and for now, they were lying low and waiting until their plane tickets to get paid for.

"Claire, I need you to listen to me very carefully."

"Of course."

"Whatever happens, I don't want you to try and find me."

"Why the hell not!" she protested immediately.

" Look! I don't know what's gonna happen to us. Jill, myself, and the others are going to take down Umbrella for what they did. Things are definitely going to get crazy and I don't want you caught up in that."

"Dammit Chris, I'm not some little kid anymore."

"CLAIRE. Promise me." She glared at him through the phone; he always was a stubborn man. However, she had learned the one sure-fire way to get him off her back; LIE. The breath she let out was a believable sigh of frustration.

"Fine, Chris. I promise I won't go looking after you." She crossed her fingers behind her back, a childish gesture, but one that she had never been able to get out of. The satisfying grunt from her brother was subtle.

"I love you, baby sister. I promise I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"I love you too, big bro. Be careful." Claire lingered a bit before hanging up, worried about her brother, but determined to be with him every step of the way, no matter how much he despised the idea. It wasn't good-bye, only a brief parting. She began to rummage through her closet, taking out a small pack and some light clothes and shoving them inside the sack. If she left now, she should be able to catch up with him within 2 days, hopefully enough time to be able to search for him before the tickets got cleared. She kicked off her pajama bottoms and quickly dressed in her favourite cycling outfit, which consisted of a black shirt, matching under-shorts, jean shorts, Western-style boots, side pack, and her lucky 'Made In Heaven' vest, which had been a gift from Chris for getting into University. Once she finished dressing, she went back over to the desk she had been studying at and pulled out the upper left drawer. The combat knife she picked up smiled at her in the light of the desktop lamp; yet another gift from Chris…for protection.

She performed a few practice swings and flips that she learned from her self-defense classes, putting it back in the holster once she was satisfied. The brunette pulled out a piece of notebook paper from her spiral and scribbled down a note to her roommate, stating that she had a family emergency and wouldn't be back. Claire was not thinking about how she'd fail her class if she left now, nor did she think about how going to search for her brother would, in a nutshell, ruin her entire college and future career. All she could think about was finding her dear older brother, the only thing she truly had left in the world.

Of course, that event had eventually led her to Raccoon City, where she had her first experience with Umbrella and their ungodly creation, the T-Virus. Moments upon arriving in the city, Claire had been saved by Leon, a rookie cop who came for his first day on duty in the RPD, and the two teamed up together to try and figure a way out of the hell on Earth. At least now, she had been able to fully believe Chris, unfortunately. The duo split up to explore the police station, where Claire eventually met Sherry, who was the young daughter of the scientists that created a new strain of the virus called the G-virus. She had grown very fond of Sherry and tried to take care of her as best as she could, even if that meant fighting off monsters and creatures that tried to kill them. All three of them (Leon mentioned a woman named Ada, but she wasn't able to leave with them) had been able to escape from the city via a train before the government bombed the city to stop the spread of the infection outside of the city. It had been painful for Claire to leave Sherry in the care of Leon, but since Chris wasn't in the city, she had to go off on a new quest to try and find him yet again.

She searched aimlessly for a few weeks, going off nothing but intuition to guide her. She would stay at motels and stop to take out money from her college savings account (now that she didn't need it anymore) to pay for a life on the road. Luckily, while she had stopped for a lunch break at a café, the younger Redfield heard of a rumor about the Umbrella database in Paris that contained any and all information regarding anything having to do with the company. Claire was on the next flight she could get to France and a step closer to being reunited with her brother.

Once she got there, however, things quickly went downhill. She stayed in a hotel for a night only, not thoroughly thinking through a plan, as she should have. Luck is all I need, she thought to herself. And so she wore yet another vest that Chris has given her, one she hoped would be enough to get her through her mission. The infiltration of the facility ended in immediate failure, which led her to her capture.

And so, here she was, in a disgustingly white room, wearing a sheet of paper for clothing on some goddamn island in the middle of who knew where. What he next step was, she did not know. All she did know was that she had to think of something fast to get out of there.

The door handle began to wiggle slowly and Claire, out of habit, reached for the gun in her non-existent holster, cursing herself for being so vulnerable. The door finally opened and her body immediately tensed up. In walked an older gentleman, whom Claire could only assume was the doctor. He had one of the shiniest heads she ever saw, full of liver spots and other unsightly things that she wished she could un-see. He wore a standard white lab coat with the signature Umbrella logo sown above the right breast pocket. His ID was clipped onto said pocket, showing a picture of him with an eerie smile that made him seem much too happy than what he should be. A tucked in shirt, tie, and white pants accompanied the ensemble. The man walked over to the stainless steel covered counters, looking a file and jotting some notes down for a few moments.

"WKD4496?" Claire did not recognize the number and assumed her was spewing out some science mumbo-jumbo data. There was a reason why she had been an English major.

"Ms. Redfield." _'Oh, that's right; I'm just a number here.'_

She merely turned her head to show that she was acknowledging him, but no more so that she keep up her mute act. The doctor did not seem to think anything abnormal of this and continued to smile his creepy smile.

"My name's Dr. Enoch Stoker, the physician of this fine island. It's routine for all new prisoners to go through a basic check-up in order to ensure that they are fit to work and don't have any medical issues that need to be dealt with."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes and nodded, showing him that she understood what he was saying. The mute act that she was performing was keeping up quite nicely, if she could say so herself. Any act of defiance was a small victory for her. Dr. Stoker did not seem to mind her silence at all.

"It's not at all unusual for you to be quiet, you know," he conversed with her in an upbeat tone of voice. "Most of the new arrivals that we get are less than pleased to be here. Such a fascinating thing, the human mind, don't you think?" He stared at her more intently at her now, his now sparkling eyes roaming up and down her figure. Claire furrowed her eyebrows, glaring daggers at him. This fucking asshole was checking her out! It was just her luck to have a pervert as a doctor, to completely make things worse. The doctor quickly went back to his charts, scribbling down a few more things before roaming around inside of the many drawers that were built into the stainless-steel counter.

"Aha!" he shouted. He turned back to her, holding a device that looked like a blood pressure monitor. "Now, I'm just going to take your blood pressure. Nothing out of the ordinary, my dear! Just relax."

'He's really pissing me off,' she thought as wrapped the cuff around her upper arm. They sat there for a brief minute, Claire wincing, as the cuff tightened like an anaconda as the doctor looked eagerly at the BP monitor. Her discomfort was growing larger by the second. This 'doctor' (Who knew if Umbrella didn't hire some random whack-job off the street? It would certainly be like them to do so) was sending of vibes that Claire did not dig in the least bit. Suddenly, the pressure was relieved and Stoker beamed, clearly pleased with the results.

"My, My, Ms. Redfield. You have a prefect 110 over 70 blood pressure. You seem to be a VERY healthy young woman." He breathed the last two words out in a slow way, causing shivers to run up and down her bare back. His eyes revealed a preditorial gleam that was looking at her like a piece of meat that was about to be cut into. The doctor advanced towards her quickly just as Claire jumped off the exam table, trying to find a place to run to. Of course, seeing that she was in a very cramped room, there was nowhere that she could run to. She was pinned up against the wall now with her hands forced up above her head. His breath was on her neck, kissing its sloppily upon its narrow. She was desperately trying to wiggle out of his grip, but she stopped when he raised his head up to her level. His grey eyes looked intensely at her blue ones, and he grinned as if he had just won the fucking lottery.

"You know, Ms. Redfield, there haven't been many women on this island, let alone a fine specimen such as yourself." His lips moved up towards her ear, whispering in a gentle tone into it. "Prison can be such an awful place for the pretty ones like yourself, I'm sure if you…serviced me in some way, I would be able to make your stay here much more enjoyable."

Her face softened a bit, the terror in her eyes fleeing and her lips curving upwards into a smile. The doctor took this as a sign of her approval and released his grip from her left hand and smiled brightly at her. And suddenly, the flirtatious grin that plagued her lips was gone, replaced by a scowl that let out an angry howl as she used her newly freed hand to punch his nose in hard. She used his momentary blindness to free herself from his grip and ran towards the door she came in through, pounding on it as hard as she could.

"Get me out of here! I know you can hear me!"

A hand silenced her mouth and she once again felt the sensation of a gun, pressing hard onto her temple. Her head felt like it was going to crack into a million pieces. Blood was pouring from the good Doctor's nostrils, a sure sign that his nose was broken. The look of madness in his eyes was terrifying.

"You WENCH! How dare you do this to my face, how dare you!" He unlocked the safety on his weapon, the fear inside Claire welling up as the cocking of the hand pistol covered up her thundering heartbeat.

"I was hoping I would get to play around with you. You would have made quite a lovely test subject. But you've shown your true colours to be now; you would only taint my precious experiments, taint them!" his voice had risen to an insanely high level, which filled the room with a sense of complete and utter madness.

"_This guy, he really is insane."_ The thought suddenly came to the terrified woman. _"He wouldn't have any problem killing me at all. I can-I can really die here." _She shut her eyes tightly and thought of Chris for one final time, and waited for momentary impact of a bullet going through her skull. But suddenly, the pressure of the gun on her temple was gone and Dr. Stoker's body was removed from her own. Her knees gave out as soon as she was out of his clutches, as the fear from only milliseconds ago caught up with her physically. It took her a brief moment to look up from the ground and see Rodrigo standing a few feet away from her, talking in hushed tone with the psycho that tried to kill her. The tan-skinned man turned around to look at her intensely, speaking in a harsh tone.

"Go outside the door and wait there. You try anything funny, I'll give you to the doctor here, got it?"

She nodded once and had to force herself not to run out of the room and slam the door behind her. Once she was out of the room, Claire quietly shut the door behind her, located the nearest chair, and sat down. Surprising to most, she did not cry. She did not contemplate over what had just happened. The brunette had realized a long time ago that Umbrella was a sick, sick company that didn't give any care in the world about the people it harmed or the chaos they caused. Was she seriously ticked that she had almost been raped and murdered in the same night? Hell yeah. But that's what made her a strong woman.

"_You're a Redfield, Claire. And our family, especially the women, is strong. Never let anything get you down, little sis. You can always find a way out of a nasty situation."_

The words of her brother rang through her head and filled her with determination. She would get off this island, she would find Chris again, and she would join him in his fight against the evil pharmaceutical company.

When Rodrigo walked back in the room, Claire did not keep her head lowered. She raised it high and proud, looking directly at him. The glint in his eyes that she saw as he walked towards her definitely gave her the 'really pissed-off' vibe that she had come to know and expected from everyone at Umbrella. What she did not expect, however, was the sudden stinging sensation that came from her left cheek and being half-off the chair she was seated upon. She lifted her head to look up at him and saw that his hand was raised in the air and kept looking back and forth between his angered face and that hand, almost as if she couldn't believe that he had just slapped her.

" You really need to learn your place here, girl. You know how much I had to calm down that crazy doctor just so he wouldn't have you killed right away? I could have lost my security position, and I did not bust my ass all these years to have it handed right back to me by some feisty bitch that refuses to cooperate."

He forced the words through clenched teeth, obviously trying to keep some bit of reserve with her. Claire was trying not to explode on him either; where the hell did he get off slapping her for trying to defend herself? Rodrigo took a deep breath, the menace in his eyes fading away as he raised his hand to rub the side of his temple, trying to relieve a headache.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart. We don't put up with this type of bullshit here. Just do what you're told, don't get into any trouble and you'll be fine. Anything else and well…you wouldn't want to know." The way he hesitated at the end had the teen worried about what she was glad she didn't know.

"_Yeah, sorry I didn't let myself get raped by some crazy doctor on some crazy island."_ She almost said it out loud, but she didn't want to see what else her captor could do to her when he got pissed. She merely let out a forced, though respectful " Thanks for the info." And that was the end of that.

He seemed pleased enough with her answer. Rodrigo went behind her to a large metal cabinet and began shifting through the contents. Claire turned around just enough so she could see him out of the corner of her blue eyes. He pulled out a small dark blue shirt that was bordered with white on the sleeves and at the bottom and threw it at her. She caught it easily. It was obvious that he wanted to see if it fit or not. Claire held it up to her torso and glanced at the older man, waiting for his approval. He nodded and muttered a simple "That'll do." and went back into the cupboard again. He rummaged around for a brief moment before finally re-immerging with a black tank top and a pair of simple green cargo pants and shut the cabinet.

"Just make sure you wear the blue shirt at all times, except for when you're sleeping. Other than that, everything else is luxury items. I'll take you to your bunk now and have one of the other inmates inform you about the work day and prison life here." He said as he gripped her by the shoulders, not bothering to handcuff her. Both of them already knew she would not try to escape. Rodrigo's fingers dug into her skin as he led Claire out the door straight ahead, and straight into the unknown. It was not an uncertain future. Claire knew she would get off this island. When or how, she did not know. But that was for a later day. All she needed was rest now.

* * *

Goddamn he was sore, sorer than he usually was after a long day of work. He would have thought that after being here for a month, he would have gotten use to it. Obviously, that wasn't the case. Steve leaned his head back against the brick wall that made up part of his bunkhouse. He didn't want to go back inside, at least not until the smoke from all those damn cigarettes the guards smoked cleared out. It was just what he wanted after working a 12-hour day in the hot sun; coming back to a small, cramped living quarter that smelled like sweat and smoke…and gave you cancer.

It was a cool night with a few stray clouds passing in front of the bright crescent moon that shone its light upon the island, giving it an eerie glow. A gentle breeze blew his red locks to the side, messing his hair up more than it already was. He patted it down, grimacing at all the perspiration that came off onto his hand. Thank God they had showers tomorrow, or he would pass out from his own stink.

Steve glanced over to his right, eyeing the guard that was on watch outside of their bunk. He stood at perfect attention, with his rifle in the typical military position of Port Arms. The guards head turned, his dark skin making him blend into the shadows.

"What're you looking at, punk?" he asked in a disgusted voice.

"Nothing! Jeeze…" His voice trailed off. Why the guards always had to be in such a fucking pissy mood was unknown to him. They certainly had nothing to complain about, what with all the food that actually HAD flavour, computers (that had some really nasty, if not very sexy things on them), and sitting around on their asses all day. Whatever, it did no use bitching about it. The sound of his boots hitting the wood of the porch he stood on echoed into the night air while he changed his position a bit.

Steve turned his head towards the metal door that led from the exercise yard to the small area where the bunk was. Le porte groaned as it opened and the young prisoner was not only quite surprised to see Rodrigo, the head of security who was only seen occasionally by the 'common folk', but a figure being led ahead of him.

"_A new prisoner?"_ he thought to himself. He watched them carefully coming up the steps and noticed something very odd about his new bunkmate. _"A VERY pretty new prisoner."_ Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't seen a girl his age in a long while that he found himself truly fascinated by her. Her auburn hair was tied up in a low ponytail, showing off the oval face she adorned even more. The moonlight made her white skin glow and her deep blue eyes shine.

The redhead stopped his silent gapping when Rodrigo cleared his throat, obviously a bit agitated. Steve was confused for a minute, not sure what the hell is problem was, but then he remembered the sign of respect that prisoners were required to show the guards; a simple nod of the head.

"Watch yourself, boy. Don't forget your place here." He glared at Steve with

"Yes, _sir_." Asshole.

"This is Claire Redfield, our newest prisoner. Make sure to make her feel at home." With a small chuckle, he pushed the girl towards him, turned around, and walked back down the steps and out the metal door he had come through. The guard that had been outside with him saluted Rodrigo as he passed.

The 17 year old caught her roughly, bracing her shoulders with his hands. His green eyes met with her blue ones, and he felt a bit of heat rush to his face, which was definitely not cool. The girl…. Claire raised her eyebrow at him in confusion. She backed away from him and he let his arms fall to his side, not really sure what to do next.

"_Just relax and be cool. No big deal."_

"So uh…Claire, was it? Pretty name, it suits you well." He flashed her one of him infamous grins, hoping that is irresistible charm would swoon her. It didn't. She rolled her eyes, not impressed in the least bit with his flirting. Way to score, Burnside.

"Yeah, thanks…I didn't catch your name?"

"Oh yeah, the name's Steve. Steve Burnside."

She gave him a small amused smile. "Well, Steve, are you going to show me around?" he could tell he started blushing again. This chick really knew how to get to him. That's fine; two could play that game.

"Of course. Let me introduce you to the family."

He turned the knob and the door opened with a rather loud creak and he stepped to the side, allowing her to walk inside while the guard the stood just in front of the chain-link fence to the side of the building eyed them. Steve glared right back at him, not afraid of getting a beating for being 'defiant'. He stepped inside after re-closing the doors, seeing the other guards in their raise, fenced off section of the bunkhouse on their computers. Claire was standing off to the side of the door, taking in her new surroundings and not looking too happy about it either. He couldn't blame her really; he was the same way when he first came here. The prisoners' living quarters weren't exactly the most high-class place he had been in. The dirt floor made it difficult to breathe sometimes, especially when there was a rainstorm. Only 2 solitary hanging lights illuminated the space with dull lighting, making the mood of the place even drearier than it usually was. They ate at 2 wooden picnic tables, which had enough space to fit everyone that lived in this barrack. The other barrack, over on the other side of the island…he didn't want to think about that now. He had no reason to.

The redhead was so caught up in his thoughts, he almost forgot about the pretty little thing that was new to his happy home. There were only 2 other people sitting at the tables, playing poker, from the looks of it. They didn't bother turning their heads to see him walk in, too bust looking at their cards to pay any attention to him. Steve recognized the two immediately; He could tell from the way they held each other's hands underneath the wooden frame. He sighed dramatically and turned to Claire, her head tilting to the side so she could see him.

" It's not much, but it's home. You wanna sit down?" he asked her.

"Yeah, that would be nice, actually. It's been a bit of a rough day and my head is pounding." She exaggerated the pounding at the end of her sentence. Steve noticed that she had a really nasty bruise just above her left temple, which he figured was caused by whatever bastard had caught her and put her in this dump. It was the same way the guards had got him to shut up after he first arrived. What a pleasant flashback that was. Claire followed the prison boy as he walked over to the two guys that we're still very intently focused on their game. She sat down just a foot away, not wanting to disturb them.

Steve took a seat backwards next to her, leaning his elbows against the edge of the table while crossing his shins over each other. He glanced non-chalantly over to the hand the tall, tanned guy that was playing next to him.

"Let's see…1 King, a seven, a two, and a pair of threes. Damn, you have a really shitty hand." He said, smirking

The man threw his cards down, the other man across the table pumping his fist in victory as he laid down his on hand that revealed a Jack's three-of-a-kind.

"You little punk. Just wait till that re-match you still owe me. I'll kick your ass all the way back to the States." He said menacingly as he turned to face him.

"Now Andy, stop getting so worked up over everything! It's not like you really lost anything important. Well, maybe for later on tonight, but it's about time you let me be on top!"

"That's not something everyone needs to fucking know, John!"

Andy shushed the smaller guy, unlatching the hand that had been holding the pale skinned one's underneath the table. Steve laughed at them and he heard Claire giggle a bit too. The two arguing men paused in their squabble, finally taking notice of the new arrival to Rockford Island.

"Hey Steve, who's the new girl?" asked John in his high voice. He got off his side of the table and walked over towards her, his sandy brown hair falling in front of his dull green eyes.

"Oh god, I'm so spacey today. This is-"

Claire Redfield. It's nice to meet you." She shook John's hand with a smile. He seemed a bit surprised that she was so confident from the start, but he grinned back and exchanged a basic pleasantry with her after officially introducing himself.

He turned to gesture at the large man standing behind him, who was still pouting a tad. "The big guy over there is Andy. He can be SO overly dramatic about things. But, that's what I find attractive about him." He said, with a dreamy look on his face.

"Get a room, seriously." Steve scoffed at him, receiving an annoyed look from the two lovers. Claire was looking back and forth between Andy and John, the gears seeming to finally click after a few brief moments.

"You two are…. together?" she asked warily.

"About as together as you can get without fucking each other every 5 min-OW!" he was interrupted by the giant, tanned fist of Andy coming down upon the top of his head, his hazel eyes glaring daggers at the young inmate. John merely rolled his eyes at the two.

"Honestly, you both act like such babies. Claire, sweetheart, would you mind doing me a huge favour and keep Steven busy for me before those idiots get into another fight?"

"No, not at all." She said. Steve didn't pay the slightest attention to their conversation; he was still in a violent staring contest with his older cellmate, not wanting to lose again after the one they had last week. It seemed childish, to be having such an event when they were both grown men [he considered himself grown up enough; he'd be 18 in a few months anyways.], but when having to spend each and everyday working your ass off and then some, you learned to appreciate childish antics. Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his upper arm and practically jumped out of his skin. His blue-green eyes met with the sapphire blue ones of a certain new inmate.

"Are you always this jumpy around girls, or is that just around me?" Claire asked, with a slightly flirtatious tone. The redhead felt heat rise to his cheeks, but turned his face away from her in order to hide it. The direction he turned lead him to face Andy briefly, but the older man quickly walked away, clearly not wanting to get into another staring contest with him and walked towards his lover, who was sitting back down at the table. The couple sat across from each other, the olive-skinned John dealing out a hand for another round of Poker.

"Hello, earth to Steve! You weren't kidding when you said you were spacey." He snapped out of his observant trance immediately.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I swear I have A.D.D. or something." He made as a lame attempt at a joke, judging from the questioning look on Claire's face. He cleared his throat to get rid of the tension.

"Well, we all get a little out of it sometimes." She let out a small yawn. " I don't mean to sound rude, but would you mind showing me around your superbe château so I can hit the hay?"

"Uh…" Shit, he really should have paid more attention in French class. Who knew it would help him pick up chicks. She sighed, seeming to be used to people not knowing what the hell she meant when she spoke in the romance language. Ok, château meant castle or something like that and superbe meant, well…superb. Oh. OH.

" Well, I wouldn't want to let a pretty lady like you to lose any sleep." Claire rolled her eyes, but smiled softly at him. _That's it Steve-O, just keep your cool. _"As you can see, we offer a lovely choice of seating arrangements for your dining needs! Diners at our fine establishment include oatmeal for breakfast, soup for lunch and again for dinner. A gourmet meal fit for kings, if you ask me." He pointed one of his long, elegant fingers towards the back left corner of the semi-large room, where there was a narrow nook. "That's where the chef, a.k.a. whoever isn't exhausted enough to cook, makes the food, if you could even call it food."

"Hey, why don't you try making a 5-Star meal with the shit they give us! Then you can complain!"

"Sorry, John. Damn. Anyways, that fenced up area over there is where the guards will hang out and 'do their job'. They have a few computers, and sometimes they'll turn the radio on, but their taste in music is pretty shitty." Steve could feel the one guard that was inside glare at him, but they did that all the time.

"I'm use to that from my brother. We always argued when we drove together about which station to turn to." Her face saddened suddenly, and Steve didn't want to pester her about it. Everyone here had a story with their family, most of them were not so happy, as it was to be expected.

"That sounds nice." He sincerely stated. "Anyways, we have the beds and showers in the other room, if you wanna see that really quickly. I'm getting pretty tired myself. Hey guys, I'm gonna show Claire the bunks and then go to bed. I'll see ya' tomorrow."

"Night, Steve. It was nice to meet you, Claire!" John called back to them. Andy nodded to the both of them. It was how he usually greeted everyone, besides John of course. She said her goodnights to both of them and followed Steve into the next room, whose entrance was merely a wooden door located on the right side of the eating area. Steve opened the door for her, as any gentleman should, and allowed her to proceed into the narrow walkway, filled with bunk bed that were built into the wall. There were 3 sets of these beds built into each side of the wall. The way it was set up always reminded Steve of the old-fashioned wooden bench beds they use to have in the prison movies he watched with his friends sometimes. He noticed one of the beds already had the form of a person in it, the thin covers barely covering the top of the blonde waves that fell widely across the pillow.

"God-damn that Katherine, always the first one to bed."

"Katherine?" Claire asked. Steve walked over to the bottom middle bunk and held out his arms, as if he were showing her some fascinating exhibit at the science museum…not that he ever went to one.

"This thing, right here, is Katherine. We call her Kat just to piss her off, since she hates it so much. I guess you'll meet her tomorrow, if she even gets up on time." He strode over a few steps to the bunk that was closest to the small hall, which led to the showers to the left and a small shelf and window to the right.

"This is where I sleep, in the top bunk. You can have it if you want, they're all horribly uncomfortable no matter which one you pick." Steve scoffed.

"That makes me feel loads better." She said to him, very unenthusiastic. Thanks, but there's no need for you to give up your bed for me. I'll be fine with the bottom."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He sat down on Claire's bed, untying his tannish-brown work boots and kicking them under the small space underneath, along with his rather disgusting socks. Claire pinched her nose to try ad not inhale the stench.

"That's gross."

"Yeah, well that's what your feet are gonna smell like pretty soon, so I would start getting use to it." Steve stood up and grabbed the edge of his bunk, and pushed up, managing to get up onto his bed without being extremely sore after [that was one good thing about doing manual labour for 12 hours, you got really ripped, really fast]. He stretched out his muscles for a good while and then took off his blue work shirt and yellow tank top, both of which were soaked in sweat, and threw them underneath his pillow. He didn't bother getting under the blanket, he always ended up kicking it off somewhere in the middle of the night. Claire, however, seemed to do the opposite, for he heard the shifting of the covers and sheets before she rested her head against the pillow, seeming to try and find a comfortable position.

"You were right, these things are so hard to get settled into!" she let out an exasperated sigh.

"Welcome to Rockfort." He said blandly. It was silent for a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft laughs of John and Andy out in the main room and Kat's quiet snores just a few feet away.

"Hey Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for helping me out today and trying to cheer me up. It was really sweet of you." The way her voice sounded so appreciative brought about the final round of embarrassment for the evening from Steve, which was apparent in his slightly tinted cheeks. Oh, this girl did that a lot to him. _In the good way though, so I guess I can forgive her. _

"Yeah, but that's what friends are for, right?"

"Definitely. Good night, Steve."

"You too, Claire."

All was silent again as they both drifted off to sleep; Claire worried for her brother and what tomorrow would bring and Steve, wondering just how much better he wanted to get to know her.


End file.
